
Market Halls Victoria, launched in November 2018, is part of a trio alongside its siblings in Fulham and the West End. Fun fact: the site was once home to the infamous Pacha nightclub – a haven for world-class DJs and wide-eyed clubbers. Now transformed, the three-story venue has eleven kitchens, three bars, and a rooftop. Its mission? To feed, please, and lubricate with a medley of cuisines – pasta, kebabs, ice cream, Malay dishes, tacos, dumplings, a Jewish deli, and much more besides. This is a space where multiple identities come together as one – a destination that’s as compelling as it is diverse. And yes, it’s full of beans. By beans, I mean the effervescent crowd, not what the clubbers used to eat – just to clarify.


Not having dined at the Roti King, a restaurant highly acclaimed for being one of the most profound cheap eats in London, I had to try out Gopal’s Corner. It’s a homage to the owner’s parents restaurant with the same name in the 70s. The Malaysian-Tamil menu is renowned for their famous flaky, buttery rotis, curries and mee.

First stop we arrive at Gopal’s Corner. Back in 2003, Sugen Kanagaratnam touched down in the UK and set up shop in the legendary Oriental City in Colindale. It didn’t take long for him to earn the name that would stick – Roti King. But when Oriental City shut its doors, Sugen saw his moment. He went all in and opened Roti King in Euston, a no-frills, all-thrills temple to hand-pulled, golden, flaky roti canai. After my first bite I never looked back. Now? He’s expanded the empire, with outposts in Battersea, Waterloo and Spitalfields. But Sugen wasn’t done – he also launched Gopal’s Corner, a love letter to his heritage, named after his parents’ restaurant. Here, he’s diving deeper into the world of Malaysian-Tamil cooking, plating up mee goreng, spicy kari’s and more hand-torn, sauce-dunking roti goodness. Through it all, one thing’s stayed the same – Sugen’s mission to educate us on the complexity, depth, and pure firepower of Malaysian cookery.


Beef rendang, a dish synonymous with Indonesia and beloved across Malaysia, is traditionally a slow-braised masterpiece. Beef is simmered for hours in spices, coconut milk, and roasted coconut until the liquid evaporates, leaving behind a luscious, spoon-tender medley of intense complex aromas. The version here (£5.95), though dark, sticky, and just about finishable, lacked the boldness one expects. Instead, it was restrained and, ultimately, quite forgettable. Don’t get me started on the beef either, it had the chew of century-old tree bark, slow-cooked into oblivion yet somehow still as tough as a cowboy’s boot heel.

The king prawn sambal was the polar opposite – an explosion of flavour that hit all the right notes. Boosted with bold spices and delivering a potent chilli slap that creeps up and comes alive, it showed no signs of fading, especially when paired with the knockout flaky roti. God that roti was good.

The dhall £6.95, a slightly thin stew of spiced lentils wasn’t the magnificent spectrum of flavour it could have been, but it’s a dainty hand shake of forgettable soupy liquid. What redeemed it, however, were the roti breads – nothing short of sublime. They were a supernova of bubbled, chewy carbs with just the right amount of tension, chewiness, and toasted flavour. In the end, they became the standout moment of the meal.

Gopal’s Corner Grubstance rating 3/5
I came back to Gopal’s Corner in June 2019 and ordered the Mee goreng (£10.25) – a full-throttle, wok-blistered, oil-slicked tangle of noodle pervertedness. There’s golden strands that dance against a raging-hot wok, picking up a deep, smoky wok hei so intense your taste buds will abidingly remember it. The sauce is a glorious, filthy mess – thick, sticky, and dripping with umami. Sweet, salty, spicy, sour – it’s a riot on a plate, fuelled by fiery chilies and kicap manis, a thick, dark type of soy sauce that clings onto your palate. I harboured a strong desire to eat it again when I left – let’s call this a redemption as my first visit was just meh.



I also ordered the mutton kari (£12.95) this time, a bowl of molten, spice-laden destruction. It’s a slow-cooked, sweat-inducing, bowl of deep meatiness and roasted spices. The mutton is braised down until it collapses at the mere suggestion of a spoon, its fibres drenched in a thick, ferocious gravy that clings for dear life. Scoop it up with a flaky roti and thank me later. It was a stark contrast to the old cowboys boot heel.



Gopal’s Corner Grubstance rating 4/5
BaoziInn is a Soho Cantonese stalwart with influences from Sichuan and Hunan – the USP is adding turmeric or beetroot to their dumpling dough to give them those uncommon vivid colours. They hit the scene in June 2018, the brainchild of Wei Shao, the man who first blasted Sichuan fire into London’s food scene with Bar Shu. On paper, this place waves the Cantonese flag – but don’t be fooled. The menu is peppered, puns intended, with the unmistakable tingle of Sichuan peppercorns, the feral heat of Hunan chillies, and even a detour into Zhejiang flavours. Whatever you want to call it, one thing’s clear – this ain’t your standard dim sum joint. The empire’s grown too, with a sibling spot just around the corner at 25 Newport Court and another holding down the fort in Victoria Market Halls since late 2018. They have moved on since this review though – so don’t expect to get your dim sum fix when coming here.

The vibrant colours are a feast for the eyes with these watercress and prawn dumplings (£4.50), wrapped up in a custard-yellow silky dough. That glow? That’s turmeric flexing its golden muscles – not just for show but bringing a little health kick to my dumpling indulgence.

We also got the savoury hot and sour wontons £4.50 that got the spinach treatment too, along with a good douse of hot oil and black vinegar. They were recommended by our server and were perfectly serviceable but didn’t have fireworks per se.


Prawn and chive dumplings (£4.50) roll up in a deep green spinach-juice wrapper, a look that Dumplings Legend has already flexed before. Visually? A win. But the bite? Meh. A little too parched, a little too forgettable. The filling had potential, but it just wasn’t bringing the juice – literally. Edible? Sure. Crave-worthy? Not quite


The ruby prawn dumplings £4.50 or siu mai with a purple overcoat reaped from beetroot juice were brilliant to look at, but annoyingly like the prawn & chive variant, arid to eat.




Baozinn Grubstance rating 2.75/5
(BaoziInn are no longer here but you can find them elsewhere)
Super Tacos comes from the same mob behind Breddos Tacos. Their game? Charcoal, smoke, fire -where meat meets embers and Maillard magic happens. Founders Nud and Chris took a pilgrimage to the Baja Culinary Festival in Tijuana, and what resonated hardest? The ‘tacos al carbón’ – charred, blistered, and dripping with roadside goodness. They brought that smoky, street-side swagger back to London, and now we get to bask in its delicious, fire-licked glory.


We go for three of their tacos available, spit roast pork adobada, a spit roast marinated pork, white onion, avocado & tomatillo salsa. Chicken asado al carbon; charcoal grilled marinated chicken, black beans, salsa Mexicana; steak asada; charcoal grilled marinated steak, roasted jalapeno, salsa habanera. The lot is yours for £11. Overall I’d say the flavours are punched nicely with spice, chilli and the citric shove of lime, but expect a protein that is comparable to jerky, dense, packed with flavour but requires serious jaw strength to get the most out of them. Think a cowboys old boot heel.





Super Tacos Grubstance rating 2.5/5
(Super Tacos are now defunct but you can still dine at Breddos).
Did you know that Nonna Tonda had a residency at Bar Termini? Neither did I. They do handmade pappardelle with Longhorn shin ragu, conchigliette with romanesco broccoli, pancetta & anchovies and butternut squash ravioli with sage butter will all feature alongside typical Italian starters such as burrata, panzanella & chargrilled aubergines. Annoyingly I didn’t get a harbouring desire to reorder the pappardelle which is what I went for. I found the the flavours to be underwhelming – it just didn’t have the savoury depths and waves of umami I like in a ragu. The sauce can really make or break a pasta.



Nonna Tonda Grubstance rating 3/5
(Nonna Tonda are no longer at this site but they can deliver to you).
From Soft Serve Society we dive into an Oreo milkshake £5.95 that’s pure indulgence. It’s a towering masterpiece, a charcoal cone is drizzled with rich dark chocolate sauce and a swirl of velvety whipped cream, sits atop of the shake like a creamy snowdrift, adding a luscious lightness to every sip. For extra thigh cladding goodness, there’s 3 halves of Oreo cookies. Someone get me a triple espresso and a defibrillator please.


Soft Serve Society Grubstance rating 3/5
(Soft Serve Society is longer at this site but you can find them elsewhere)
Downstairs we hit up HotBox, a smokehouse that takes ancient fire fuelled techniques and cranking them up to full throttle. Expect bold, unapologetic plates that hit you with smoke, spice, and serious depth. Well that’s what we got in the ribs anyhow. The HotBox journey commenced at East London’s street food trenches – grilling, smoking, and feeding the masses at Street Feast legends like Dalston Yard, Battersea Power Station, Model Market, and Hawker House. Fast forward, and they’re still bringing that same shtick to the table. I like this shtick. They let the fire do the talking and do it all with a beast of a 1-tonne Rotisserie Smoker burns a mix of kiln-dried Hickory and Oak, slow-cooking dry-rubbed meat until it’s impossibly tender, juicy, melt-in-your-mouth magic.
Come hungry. Leave in a smoky, meat-induced bliss.




The skin-on fries with chipotle mayo (£4) deliver the perfect trio – crunch, salt, and fluffy insides. Every bite hits that sweet spot between crispy and comforting, the kind of satisfaction that makes my stress receptors sigh in relief. They were so good, I didn’t hesitate to order another round.


I also ordered the St. Louis cut pork rib (£11). Some people see just meat. I see a slow-burning masterpiece. Fire, smoke, and time working their magic, breaking down muscle fibre until it’s fork tender. I see the Maillard reaction in full-blown symphony – sugars and amino acids getting all hot and heavy, charring, caramelizing, unlocking depths of smoky, meaty nirvana. This isn’t just food; it’s alchemy, it’s obsession, it’s a primal, full-throttle love affair with fire and flesh. I don’t just see a plate, I see dinner. Did I order another portion? Hell yes.














Then there’s the pickled slaw riding shotgun with the divine swine, a riot of red and white cabbage, punchy pickled onions, fiery pickled chilies, and shredded carrot, all sliced so thin they practically shimmer. It’s sweet, it’s tangy, it’s got enough mouth-puckering zip to slap the richness right off your palate and keep you coming back for more. A crunchy, electric jolt that cuts through the decadence my cleaver through butter.



HotBox BBQ Grubstance rating 4/5
(HotBox are no longer there but you can find them at Pop Brixton)
I’m not sure how, but I found room after the flesh reborn through fire and revisited Gopal’s Corner.


Next up is another love letter to the mee goreng (£10.25) – Malay fried noodles that come wok-kissed and dripping in pure, unapologetic flavour. These yellow noodles are blasted in a smoking-hot wok, so expect that unmistakable wok hei bluster, where char meets chew in all the right ways. The sauce? A sticky, spicy, sweet-sour-salty riot, pumped-up with fiery chilies and kicap manis – soy sauce’s thicker, sweeter, and more rebellious cousin. One bite and my taste buds are wide awake, my sinuses? Fully unlocked. This is heat, depth, and pure noodle chaos in the best way possible. I have been back several times for these.




We go in for the beef rendang (£8.95), backed up by that deeply majestic roti. Now, I was wary – last time, the beef had the texture of tree bark that had been slow-cooked in pure defiance, tough and unyielding like the reject scraps of a bad beef jerky haul. But this time? Redemption. What landed was a rich, fiery, coconut-laced symphony of spice and nutty depth, so damn good my fork was working overtime. And that roti? Flaky, crispy, chewy superbness – built for tearing, dunking, and mopping up every last drop of glorious sauce.





Gopal’s Corner Grubstance rating 4/5
Pasta Evangelists is a London-based company founded in 2016 by Alessandro Savelli, Chris Rennoldson, and Finn Lagun. They begun their journey by specializing in delivering fresh, artisanal pasta and sauces to customers’ homes across the UK. They launched their first restaurant within Harrods’ Dining Hall in 2019. They began offering in-person pasta-making classes in 2021, following a period of online sessions. In July 2024, they opened their first standalone emporium in Richmond, London, marking the start of a planned expansion of 20 new sites over five years.


Lasagne someone said? After a St. Louis cut pork rib, skin-on chips, mee goreng, rendang, and rotis? I should have tapped out. My stomach was waving the white flag, my waistband was screaming for mercy. But then, like a moth to a flame (or more accurately, a glutton to slow-cooked, cheese-laden luxury), I found myself at Pasta Evangelists, and my greed absolutely had no regrets.
Enter the beef and Barolo lasagne (£10.25) – a thick, decadent slab of layered hedonism. This isn’t just lasagne; this is slow-cooked nirvana, where garlic, onions, and deeply browned ground beef take a long, wine-drenched bath in Barolo – a king among reds, known for its bold complexity. The sauce is a rich, velvety powerhouse, simmered to the point where the water is reduced and the flavours intensify with umami. It’s then baked with silky béchamel, its squidgy, chewy pasta sheets stacking up into a textural triumph that’s both delicate and indulgent.
And then there’s the parmesan grating – a final snowfall of pure, salty, nutty umami that sends this dish into another full-send flavour overload. This is lasagne on steroids. A full umami hose-down that coats your entire palate in pure, unrelenting, slow-cooked bliss. Damn, it was good.




We also couldn’t resist ordering the wild mushroom ravioli (£10.25). Again we get deftly done squidgy pasta filled wild funghi exuding that unmistakable, musky aroma straight from the forest floor. The dish offered a luxurious mouthfeel that was as satisfying as its aroma suggested and it’s finished with a generous crack of black pepper and a scattering of what taste like pesto with more of that salty, nutty, umami that kept my fork going back for more.



Pasta Evangelist Grubstance rating 4/5
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